


Remember to Like and Subscribe!

by Misaya



Series: Cooking With Peasants [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cooking Lessons, M/M, Masturbation, Pervert Erwin Smith, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, cooking au, youtube au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misaya/pseuds/Misaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Erwin wanted in life, really, was just the opportunity to nibble bruises into Levi's thighs, juicy like a rotisserie chicken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember to Like and Subscribe!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ephieshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephieshine/gifts).



> I'm not gonna lie I'm pretty smashed right now please love me
> 
> Five or six shots of chocolate cake vodka ended me I'm sorry Jenn I hope you did well on your MCAT I know you did you vanilla bean pls accept this offering I love you

 

Erwin couldn't remember how his obsession with the channel had gotten started. It probably had something to do with him coming home from work the one day, absolutely famished, throwing his messenger bag on the sagging couch and popping a microwave pizza in the toaster oven while he kicked off his pants unceremoniously. 

He had propped open his laptop, ready for an indulgent weekend doing absolutely nothing, his stomach growling as he waited for his pizza to cook just enough to consumption. He was starving. 

In retrospect, in very, very, very far ahead retrospect, perhaps searching for cooking videos hadn't been the best idea. 

But hindsight is always 20/20, and crystals were still plump on the crust of his IT'S NOT DELIVERY, IT'S DIGIORNO'S personal pizza. If he was being honest with himself, the pizza was in no way, shape, or form, a personal pizza. It was a pizza designed for a family of four, but Erwin had no qualms eating his invisible husband and children's shares. 

Levi's channel popped up within the first page of search results. Cooking for Peasants. Erwin snorted at the title, reminded of the pictures of a rather disgruntled Prince George frowning disapprovingly at his subjects. The man in the thumbnail of said video was no Prince George, but Erwin thought he might as well give it a try.

In retrospect, Erwin really shouldn't have clicked the thumbnail. He shouldn't have enlarged it to full size, shouldn't have turned the volume up all the way. 

The channel, and the man running said channel, had all but enslaved him. 

He lost his video virginity to a ten minute recipe entailing how to make Pepperoni Pizza Puffs. Erwin watched in rapt attention as the man introduced himself as Levi Ackerman, his soft dulcet tones soothing against Erwin's ears. Levi was wearing a green apron over his clothes, close to his body, and it strained over his chest as he vigorously beat the dough into submission on his marble counters. Erwin was mesmerized. All but frothing at the mouth at the twitches of muscle he could make out in Levi's forearms as he kneaded the dough and folded it around little bites of pepperoni and mozzarella. 

And then, of course, there was the final shot at the end, where Levi looked directly into the camera, dark eyes all but piercing into Erwin's soul, as he popped a pizza puff into his mouth. He wrapped sinfully plump lips around the pastry, golden flakes raining down against the counter, and Erwin was all too well aware that he was drooling as Levi chewed, smiled, swallowed, and asked what he'd learned today. Of course, the question wasn't directed to Erwin specifically, was directed to the millions of other people who also watched Levi's videos, but Erwin couldn't help but blubber that he'd learned he enjoyed watching cooking videos very much. 

Levi's lips twitched, as though he'd heard, and Erwin was smitten instantly. 

Two hours of cooking videos later, during which Erwin listened to Levi informing him on the best methods of rolling out puff pastry, beating egg whites into meringue, and churning butter, he finally became aware of a hideous burnt smell. Aghast, he flung open the toaster oven, burning his fingertips on the hot glass surface, but the pizza was beyond saving. 

The blackened thing on the metal rack glared up at him sadly, and Erwin scraped it into the trash with a few curses and reluctant pouts, before popping a cup of instant noodles in the microwave and sitting down to watch more videos. 

* * *

 

In retrospect, Erwin should never have projected fantasies onto Levi. It was a horrible, very not good, horrendously bad idea. 

He almost regretted it. 

However, Erwin was particularly weak when it came to Levi and his impeccable wardrobe choices. His resolve had crumbled, like Levi's Nutella cookies, on the very same episode. Levi had been wearing a maroon scoop neck sweater, rolled up neatly to the elbows. This fact alone had Erwin salivating even before he clicked the full screen option at the corner of the video. That, combined with the way that the neckline of the sweater showed off Levi's gorgeous collarbones and the slim column of his neck, had Erwin stiffening in his pants, his untoward mind fantasizing about the smudges of flour on Levi's wrist and what else those white streaks could potentially be caused by. And then the man had to go and wear this kerchief over his hair, presumably to protect it from any wayward puffs of flour, and Erwin had been smote down by the hand of God. 

Rendered powerless, as Levi took out his whisk and tutted something about his KitchenAid whisk attachment being broken. Defenseless, as he watched Levi folding the eggs into the batter. His hand reached for the zipper of his pants, tugged it down, wrapped a hand around aching flesh. 

Levi bent over to pop the cookies into the oven - but good Lord, that ass. Erwin bit into his lower lip, chiding.

At least make it to the end of the video, he scolded himself. This didn't stop his hand from adding an additional three or four strokes, rubbing the flat of his palm over the weeping head. Levi was wearing skinny jeans in the video, clinging to every sinuous curve sinfully, all plump and juicy like a rotisserie chicken Levi had prepared in a recent video, and Erwin would have given his right arm for even the barest whiff of an opportunity to bury his face between Levi's juicy thighs. 

Erwin praised and cursed the cameraman by turns. 

Levi's bandana had fallen down a bit, and he pushed it back up over his forehead, sweaty from the fumes of the oven, and Erwin moaned. He couldn't resist. The cookies were cooling on a wire rack on the stovetop, gorgeous, golden brown and crinkly at the edges.

Levi reached for a cookie, opening his mouth to take a bite, and Erwin all but sobbed as Levi's tongue, raspberry, flickered out of his mouth to lick away the crumbs at the corners. Lascivious, looking at the camera through lowered eyelashes, as he asked them what they'd learned today.

Erwin came, hips shuddering up into his hand, streaking pearly smears across the front of his black dress shirt. 

* * *

 

In retrospect, Erwin should have stopped there, but he had very little self-control. Levi appeared everywhere now: in his browser history, on his phone through the mobile YouTube app, in his dreams, even. Erwin had woken up one particular morning just the other week, hard and aching between his thighs, halfway through a dream in which Levi had been standing over him in nothing but that hellishly teasing maroon sweater, holding a rolling pin in his hands, and asking him what he'd learned that day. 

Erwin had gawked up at him, tracing the curve of his milky cock between the shadow of his thighs, stammering something about tomatoes? Potatoes? Turnips? He couldn't remember. 

Levi had smiled, wickedly, thwapping the rolling pin against his other palm, sending a sprinkle of flour dusting down onto Erwin's nose. 

Erwin huffed as he reached down to tug himself out of his boxer briefs. This really wouldn't do, he scolded himself sternly as he closed his eyes and imagined Levi's dulcet tones, whispering about double boilers and chocolate ganache. Whipping cream. 

Erwin sobbed, low and choked, in his throat at the thought of a whip uncoiling sinuous from Levi's hand, calling him a naughty boy, leaving soft lash kisses across the planes of his back that would sting whenever his clothes even so much as shifted against them. He would be swaying on the metro on the way to work, his dress shirt would rub up roughly against them, and, and - 

Erwin almost bit through his lip as he came with Levi's name on his lips, silver spurts against his palm.

* * *

 

Erwin didn't know how thoroughly the depth of his obsession ran until Levi forgot to ask him what he'd learned that day. 

Fettuccine alfredo. Levi had been describing the sauce as hot and creamy. Erwin had to pinch the base of his cock to stop himself from coming. The end of the video, he reminded himself sternly, when he asks you what you've learned. Then, and not before. 

Levi had strained the pasta, and Erwin had indulged himself in a few additional, dangerously pleasing strokes that nearly had him tipping over the edge. Levi was blushing, a byproduct of the steam from the freshly strained pasta, and Erwin closed his eyes for a moment. 

"Fuck," he hissed to himself as he teased at the head of his weeping cock with his thumb, rubbing the slick sticky liquid back into the skin, imagining Levi's undoubtedly smaller hands tickling up the skin, tracing it, grasping it firmly, rolling it between his palms. He swallowed, his mouth dry, opening his eyes to Levi looking at him quizzically. 

He froze for half a second, before remembering that there was no way Levi could see him. The video had been taped days ago, probably, and Erwin was certainly the farthest thing from Levi's mind, probably didn't even exist in his universe. 

It was truly a troubling thought, but not as troubling as when Levi smiled, slurping up a strand of fettuccine that smeared creamy all over his lips, and Erwin dug the fingernails of his free hand into his thigh, anything to stave off his orgasm. 

"Well, that's all for this episode! I'll see you next time on Cooking for Peasants, and remember to like and subscribe." The video ended there, abruptly, and Erwin was left hanging, achingly hard in his hand, pulsing, throbbing. No, Levi hadn't said it, hadn't said the magic words, and Erwin wanted to cry as he tucked himself back into his pants, unfinished, wanton and left wanting. 

It was absurd, really. 

* * *

 

Absolution didn't come until another week later, during which Erwin was sure he was going to die of repression. 

He'd been hard since opening the notification in his email, the one from his subscription that informed him Levi had just posted another video, this one titled: Nutella Semifreddo. 

He was wearing that maroon sweater. Erwin prayed for strength as he fished his cock out of his pants. 

He worked himself into a frenzy over the outlining of the ingredients, Nutella, whipping cream, sugar, eggs, panting by the time Levi even got around to combining the wet and dry in his newly repaired Kitchen Aid. 

"God, Levi," he whimpered, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as Levi licked, kittenish, at the wooden spatula he'd used to fold the Nutella into the cream custard before depositing it into the sink. 

"Now we'll let it sit overnight, or you can freeze it for four to six hours," Levi informed the camera, an eyebrow quirked. Erwin all but whined, before remembering that the video skipped ahead to the next morning. 

Levi wasn't wearing the maroon sweater, unfortunately, but looked equally delectable in a cream colored polo, the collar folded neatly against the slim lines of his throat, casting shadow against his neck as Levi stood on tiptoes to pull the frozen tray out of the top shelf of his freezer. Erwin all but sobbed at the creamy strip of skin that appeared between the hem of Levi's shirt and the waist of his dark wash denim jeans. 

Erwin watched avidly as Levi cut a creamy slice of the semifreddo and lifted a piece to his mouth, vanilla against his lips. His hips arched into his hand, desperate for release, and he could only pray Levi wouldn't deny him again. 

Levi swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, smiling into the camera as he commented on how delicious it was. 

Erwin thought Levi looked more delicious than any cake. He wanted to mark his milky skin with sucking kisses, purple and red circles in the cream, desperately wanted to lave love bites into the insides of Levi's thighs, rubbing up against the tight denim for ages. 

"As a celebration for reaching 50,000 subscribers, I'm planning on holding a fan meet next month for one lucky fan," Levi informed the camera. "Please fill out the survey at the link in the description, and the winner will be pulled randomly on next week's episode of Cooking with Peasants." 

Erwin was so absorbed by this information that he didn't realize Levi hadn't said the cue words. With a loud groan of frustration, Erwin tucked himself back into his boxer briefs with the promises of a cold shower for later, and began to fill out the survey, hoping beyond hope.

* * *

 

Erwin swore he would convert to organized religion when Levi announced that he had won the giveaway on the next week's episode - Buffalo Wings. 

Levi informed him of his good fortune halfway through sucking tantalizingly on his fingers, popping the spicy digits into his mouth and laving his tongue over, around, between them, and Erwin, already nine-tenths of the way to orgasm, had had to pause and rewind the video a few seconds to hear Levi announcing that a very lucky "Erwin Smith, 29," would be invited onto one of next month's episodes, if he were so inclined.

He was so inclined, and when Levi grinned at the camera, sticky sweet, asking them what they'd learned that day, Erwin couldn't stop his hips from straining up into his hands, desperate, sobbing as he came all over his fingers. 

Levi had utterly ruined him, and he hadn't even met the man yet. 

* * *

 

In retrospect, Erwin shouldn't have brought flowers. The bouquet of roses was already wilting in his hand, and he was gaggling about on Levi's front doorstep trying not to scatter too many crimson petals all over the porch. Levi, Erwin had been surprised and pleased to discover, lived quite nearby, in a rather nice studio in the Melrose District of Los Angeles, one of the ones built out of the abandoned warehouses on the outskirts of downtown. He could see Urth Caffe from here, the diners little jeweled ants underneath little paper umbrellas, and Erwin wondered vaguely if Levi ever got up in the mornings, wrapped a long, loose hoodie around himself, and headed out to get a cup of coffee. 

He really shouldn't have brought flowers. It looked like he was trying far too hard, some sort of juvenile first date. 

Erwin was half considering tossing the bouquet over the wrought iron balcony railing when the door opened and he came face to face with the man who'd taken over his life. 

"You must be Erwin." Levi's voice in person was even more mesmerizing than it had been through the speakers, and Erwin savored the sound of his name rolling off Levi's tongue. "Why don't you come in?" 

Erwin all but stuttered over the doorstep, pressing the bundle of roses into Levi's hands, blubbering that they were for him. Much to his gratification, Levi only smiled - perhaps a bit more cautiously than before - and accepted the bouquet, scattering petals all over his foyer. 

"We'll be making strawberry meringue tarts," Levi informed him over his shoulder, turning to walk back into the kitchen and beckoning to Erwin to follow. 

God. It looked even juicier in person. Erwin scolded himself firmly and tried to think of anything - cold showers, cats, that one old salaryman who insisted on using the corporate shower rooms as his own personal sauna - to help him curb himself. 

The world was cruel, he reminded himself as he trailed after Levi into the kitchen, trying - and failing - to ignore the way the dark wash denim Levi was wearing today clung to his hips. A very cruel place, indeed. 

* * *

 

In retrospect, Erwin really should have spent more time picking up on actual instructional techniques around the kitchen rather than just picking himself out of his pants whenever Levi's face filled his screen. 

It became hideously apparent, hideously quickly, that Erwin was absolutely useless about the kitchen. 

Levi picked him out for the fraud he was, almost instantly. 

"And you say you've watched all my videos?" he asked, grinning, teasingly, a smudge of flour streaking his wrist as he showed Erwin how to roll out the crust. Erwin wondered if he was going to edit it out later. The thought of Levi sitting at his laptop, plugging in the almost-hostile, staring, unblinking video camera, Erwin's face filling his screen, had him swallowing roughly and nearly choking on his breath. Would he be wearing that maroon scoop sweater, the swell of his collarbones illuminated milky against the laptop's glow as he cut and pasted the clips together? 

The heel of Levi's hand brushed against his forearm as he leaned over to reach for a spatula. Despite his best attempts, Erwin was hard, straining in his pants, and was only grateful that the countertop was more than waist high, and that Levi's attention was currently on whipping the egg whites into submission.

No. Whipping. Erwin regretted his thoughts. A choice with several regrets. 

Levi cleared his throat. "Are you alright?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at Erwin in concern. "You're quite red." 

Erwin garbled something back, sure that he sounded like a completely distraught turkey, and nearly took off his thumb cutting off the tops of the strawberries that Levi had set aside for him. 

"Be careful." Levi reached out and gripped Erwin's wrist to prevent any further damage, clicking his tongue with disapproval as dabs of blood dripped into the bowl of strawberries. "It doesn't look like you'll need stitches, fortunately," he said, pulling Erwin's hand towards him and examining it. Erwin tried not to hyperventilate as Levi led him over to the sink and instructed him to rinse out the gash while he padded away to get a bandage, with an aside to the unblinking video camera that it was always important to remember knife safety in the kitchen. 

* * *

 

Safely bandaged up, his thumb stinging with the remembrance of the peroxide swab Levi had used, Levi put Erwin in charge of the egg whites while he pulled another carton of strawberries out of the refrigerator. Erwin was so absorbed in watching Levi hull and chop the strawberries, tracing the flex of his forearm with every click of the knife against the board, that he didn't notice the flecks of egg white that had started to spatter the counter. 

Levi looked over at him to see how he was doing. He found Erwin gaping at him. 

"You can't just beat it like a savage," Levi said, grinning despite himself as he reached over for the stainless steel bowl, taking the spatula from Erwin's limp fingers. "We want soft, stiff peaks, remember?" 

Stiff. Yes, Erwin was. Quite. Had been in a state of perpetual stiffness since coming upon Levi's videos. 

Levi graciously allowed him to fold a few strawberries into the meringue, even let him fill a few tartlets with the pink creme before Levi slotted the tray into the oven and padded over to the video camera to click it off. 

"So." He leaned back against the counter, eyeing Erwin with vague amusement. "You gonna go take care of that during the break?" He arched an eyebrow at the bulge at the crotch of Erwin's pants. Erwin flushed strawberry. "You weren't exactly being subtle, Erwin Smith, 29. You've been hard ever since you walked in the front door." 

Erwin was at a loss for words. 

"Please tell me you at least didn't get turned on by the Driscolls." Levi snorted at the thought as he cornered Erwin against the countertop, the heel of his hand grinding into Erwin's crotch. Erwin yelped, rather embarrassingly, and Levi smirked wickedly as his other hand reached down to undo the zipper of Erwin's jeans. 

Erwin gasped as Levi tugged him expertly out of his jeans with a flick of his wrist, like he was cracking an egg. He was already aching, leaking, flushed against the curve of Levi's hand, and it was all Erwin could do to not fist his hand in Levi's hair as Levi dropped to his knees, his mouth hovering inches from the weeping head. His tongue flickered out, kitten licks, tonguing at pearly fluid, smudging silver across his lips. 

Erwin's thumb stung as he grabbed at the edge of the marble counter furiously, choking out a sob as Levi opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the head of Erwin's cock, the tip of his tongue dipping into the slit, smearing stickiness back into the skin with every lick. 

"Now, why don't you show me what you've learned today?" Levi asked, pulling off with a slick pop, his lips swollen, and Erwin suddenly went very, very pale, hips straining against the slight hold Levi had on them. Once, twice, cream all over Levi's face, getting in his hair. Conditioning. Erwin sobbed, biting into his cheek and tasting blood as he frosted Levi's face like a cake. 

It was everything he'd ever dreamed about and more, and Levi tutted in mock disapproval at him as he stood up, rubbing a thumb along the swell of his lower lip and holding it out for Erwin's inspection before popping it into his mouth. Erwin could imagine the kitten licks around the curve of his thumb, tasting, savoring the flavor. 

Salt. Bitterness. 

"You must eat a shit ton of pineapple," Levi commented, offhandedly, as he grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe off the rest of his face. "It's sweet." Erwin barely had the good graces to drop his face into his hands. 

* * *

 

"Your sweet, delectable strawberry meringue tarts are now ready to serve!" Levi announced proudly to the video camera, presenting the beautifully golden crusted pink tartlets. Erwin stood shamefacedly nearby. "You could serve them with whipped cream, vanilla bean ice cream, or creme fraiche for that extra bit of tang." He grinned wickedly at Erwin, off to the side. "Remember to like and subscribe, and I'll see you next time on another episode of Cooking for Peasants." 

After Levi had clicked the video camera off, he turned back to Erwin with a wicked grin and asked him if perhaps he wouldn't be opposed to trying to make a jelly cake bombe (with extra cream!) the next time around. 

In retrospect, Erwin should have refused.

But hindsight wasn't always 20/20, and as he burrowed his face into the juicy plump pillows - exactly like rotisserie chicken! -  of Levi's thighs two weeks later, he decided that perhaps he should start ignoring it more often. 

 


End file.
